


Up Out The Grave

by WatchingTheClock



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, F/F, F/M, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-28 19:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30144138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatchingTheClock/pseuds/WatchingTheClock
Summary: Riddled with quarrels and stabbed to bits the King of the North seemed like he wouldn't die, but as the rapids of the Tridents carried what looked like a corpse off, they called him dead.Jon Snow is readying to fight for Winterfell. Daenerys Targaryen is readying to commence her invasion. A very different Arya stalks Westeros still.Yet the world is different since the Warlocks Qarth's cursed the Queen and the with magic growing stronger than ever before behind wall it awakens what once was dormant in the Seven Kingdoms.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Mya Stone, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Comments: 13
Kudos: 11





	1. 1

[R-_]

His skin tore open with quarrels and his torso was thrown back, yet he didn’t feel anything, just shock and anxiety. He couldn’t tell that suddenly he was running, hunched over; clutching his quarrel riddled arm to his body, hurtling through a window. He couldn’t tell time had suddenly lurched onto him flashing forward to the next horror in his memory. The time jumps and the lack of actual pain went unnoticed until he screamed one final time after a long hour of tossing and turning and shot upright.

Sweat wasn’t just sticking his skin, though it was, it was running thick down the back of his neck. Shivering he got out of bed. At last reality came back to him as he made his way to a table, finding water and drinking much. 

His thin shirt from the day before sufficed as a towel in the low light from the half-moon. 

Robb went to his balcony and looked out. The moon was nicer here, he decided. The nightmare forgotten. It was nice here. He liked the moon. The moon saved him in a way. He certainly felt at peace standing under it. Like the world was alright sometimes. 

Simple thoughts. 

Nothing difficult. He took a few slower sips taking in the night. The desert air was a pleasant cool, it didn’t sting like it did in the North. The coast bought a salty clear smell. He breathed deep. 

Clear air, clearer mind. 

The half moon hung in a cloudless sky, casting a sliverly glow over the square topped roofs and sandy streets. They were clean. At least they looked it in the sliver light. A cat with a coloration he hadn’t seen before wandered aimlessly across his street and into a shadowy alley and his eye absent-mindedly wandered with it. 

“Huh,” He sighed, taking a final sip of water. A final deep breath and a final scan of his view before turning back to bed. Life was alright. In the very present. It was alright. His bed was damp where he had tossed and turned but it was also huge so there was plenty of free space. His sweat would soon dry in the dry air. 

A soft mumble escaped the thin sheets used as a quilt. A novelty for a man used to wrapping up in furs to still shiver. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled back, gently shifting the now half-sleeping body deeper in the bed so he could slot in behind her. 

“Nuh-huh.” Mumbles was all that could be managed in the small hours. A small, soft hand pressed his shoulder back, lying back as instructed he felt her head coming to rest on his shoulder and the same hand lazily dragged his arm over her stomach.

Sheets were rustled up and some shifting and more mumbling took place but no talking. 

“You growl in your sleep.”

“Morning to you too.”

“I don’t mean growl as in go ‘grrrr,’ I mean a -”

“Grrrr?”

“Uh-huh, not like that though, like a deep one inside your chest.”

“You hum,” he shot back. 

“Do I?!” Her face lit up as she pushed her head up off his chest and moved onto her front, resting her chin in both elbows. Gods she was a beauty. “That’s nice to know,” she was unaffected. 

“No one told you before?” 

“Nope, I don’t tend to sleep next to men, they fall asleep and I hear snores, loads of snores,” she stressed with a giggle. “Then I leave with the money.”

“Sure.”

“Soooo,” she sang at him, turning back round to lie on his chest once more. Despite what she was he threw an arm around her. “Can I ask why?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why? You know?”

“No, or I wouldn’t have asked…”

“True, why did you pay for me for the night?”

“Week.”

“Wow, thanks,” her tone was so light. “You kissed a lot too, and cuddled and and and you went down on me! Men never do that.”

“I was good was I?” he chuckled lightly, feeling some of her soft, black hair falling down over his shoulder and tickling his neck. 

“Not saying that. More tender… It felt like you cared.”

“Well, thanks I guess,” he laughed again. She just burrowed her face as if trying to get deeper and more comfortable on his body. “Aren’t you meant to say how I’m the best ever and not like everyone else?”

“Not when you pay for a week in advance,” she laughed this time. He mumbled ‘good point,’ making her laugh deepen. “What’s your name?” 

“Robb.” 

“Oh, kind of boring.”

“How many have you met?” 

“None, but for a gruff Westorsi Lord I thought you’d have a more unique name like… Well I haven’t been so can’t really think of an example.”

“Lord?” Robb was bemused by this. 

“You’re probably - actually, no definitely, the best looking man I’ve been with and I get the impression it’ll offend your sensibilities if I told you how many.”

“You’re very well spoken.”

“Full of mysteries, me. Well, no I’m not.”

“It’s a bit late for the standard compliments,” Robb again laughed. “Especially after I’ve called you out on it.”

“No, I’m telling the truth about that, so you’re probably a Lord.” 

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Plus you’re more scars than flesh.” 

“I’m just taking the complement and I don’t growl.”

“My name is Siira by the way.”

“I actually remembered,” Robb sighed as he closed his eyes again, thinking he could sleep longer in the morning. A luxury he had never had before. 

“Just you called me Talisa, a lot, oh sorry,” Siira’s voice went quiet as he tensed up at the name. This girl wasn’t the spitting image of his dead wife but close enough, a girl from Volantis, the same eyes, same hair, same shape of face. “Nevermind. Wanna sleep more? Good, me too,” she hummed as Robb nodded. 

A couple hours later Siira skipped a few places a head of him down the sandy paths of Pentos. She reminded Robb of the children of the forest or water nymphs from his sister’s stories as children. Immediately he shook his head and demanded his mind stay far from that. Lying to himself he followed the whore he had paid to kill some loneliness for the week. At least the week. The sand was warm through his sandals. He had sandals. His tunic was loose and his trousers thin and light; both made of linen. It was pleasant. His nightmare and even Siira bringing up the name of the woman she was essentially replacing disappeared from his mind. 

“Where we going?” Robb called after a time of taking in the sights of the maze like streets, intersecting with alleys cutting between sprawling buildings and people of all sorts moving past or sitting by their houses in the soft, clean, warm sand of the road; talking or playing board games he did not recognize. 

“Don’t know.” 

“Well I need breakfast.” 

“The harbor!” Siira snapped her fingers together as if she had come up with a great idea, darting back to him and looping her arm through his. Like a lady would her lord. She talked the whole time in one unbroken stream about what she might eat. Robb supposed she was often hungry in her life. Nearly everyone was. “Wow, thanks,” she grinned over at him when they had found a small food vendor with some seating by the water, she ordered a lot. “You’re going to eat all that?” 

“I’m hungry,” Robb shrugged looking at the inhuman amount of food placed in front of him. It would be smarter to graze so not to be suspicious he decided. Yet he was also starving again. So he ordered several cuts of flank beef and full fish, potatoes enough for six and he knew he would add even more fruit when he was done. The fruits of Essos being such a novelty still. 

“If you eat all that I’ll be impressed.”

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Siira said twenty or so minutes later. “Is it normal to eat that much?”

“I’d rather not talk about my appetite.”

“Who’s embarrassed by an appetite?” 

“Don’t you have to do what I say?”

“No,” Siira leaned over him to steal a handful of grapes from the fresh fruit platters now being brought for him. Popping a couple in her mouth. “Not when you pay in advance.”

“Right.”

“Like an idiot.”

“Good.”

There was a pause. 

“Stop stealing my grapes!” Robb snapped. 

Siira looked at him as this thinking sincerely about what he said before shaking her head sincerely. “No. I won’t. Also your shirt smells bad.” 

“Thanks.”

“I mean I can’t make you,” she said taking even more of his bloody grapes, “but I’d really appreciate it if you wash before we fuck again.”

“Will you stop eating my grapes?”

“Already answered that,” she grinned, popping another one into her mouth. 

Despite the huge meal it was less than an hour before they were back in the room, her legs wrapped around his back. Her nails digging into the muscle of his upper back and neck. “Fuck,” she broke their kiss to swear and bite down on her bottom lip. Before shuddering and slowing down her motion, no longer gyrating back down into him. “One moment,” she giggled, “one moment. I’m really sensitive.” As Robb started lifting her up pushing himself deeper inside her, wanting to start again. He made a noise of concession and walked over to the bed and dropped her onto the bed. “Lord. You just growled.” She frowned at him.

“It was meant to be a ‘fine,’ noise,” Robb replied. Crawling up on the bed. Lying on the pillows, reaching for the jug of water by the bed. 

“It was a legitimate growl,” she crawled up Robb, straddling his hips and reaching between her legs to position him inside her. “Like a wolf… What? Why did you freeze up?! Huh? Stop thinking about whatever and fuck me!” She started rocking herself slowly backwards and forwards moaning very softly as she did. The wolf reference was quickly forgotten as another definite deep, rumbling growl escaped his chest as he felt her tighten around him.

[M-T]

“It’s dark in here.”

She actually screamed. In terror. She’d never screamed in terror before. 

“Who’s there?!” Margaery’s own voice bounced off the walls of her cell. 

“Can you see me?”

“Who’s there,” she repeated. Her own aristocratic tone echoing off the walls of the dank room, making her pathetic demand sound so completely useless. 

“Can you see me?” The voice was female. Foreign but she spoke the common tongue as if the two shared a social class. 

“Who is there?!” Margaery’s voice rasped that time. She was thirsty. Shuffling off her bed she reached in the dark for the jug of water she had at least been provided. No response. “I’m imagining this aren’t I?” She sighed. There was a laugh which made her shiver deep in the base of her spine. “Am I?” Was just about managed before her voice broke from fear. Margaery dropped back down on her provided bed, it was near the slit of a window and let in a single beam of moonlight. Still she saw nothing in the dark. She tried to take a shaky sip, spilling water down herself. Just what she needed in the cool cell when she was shivering. 

“So you can’t see me? I can see you Lady Tyrell.” 

“I can’t even see my own imaginary, let’s hope, friend,” Margaery groaned. How long had she been in here? It had been a long time. Her mind consumed with worry for Loras. His crime was true. Little sleep, no light, and berating from religious fucking lunatics paid a heavy toll quickly. Again, however long it had been. “Gods!” She shrieked as a definite person sized weight sat next to her on the bed. Placing her jug away, unable to keep her hands steady. “Oh no! Are you an assassin… If you are real!” She poked the figure with her finger like she was stabbing a spear, withdrawing just as fast as she poked. “So you are real… Please don’t assassinate me. Oh and sorry I poked you.”

That laugh again. Margaery didn’t dare look to her left.

“I’m not an assassin, though I can kill you if you want to be free.” 

“Please don’t kill me.”

“Do I look dead?”

“Well,” Margaery took a deep breath and dug her nails into her knees, it was painful through her thin, prisoner’s tunic and her nails were jagged as she resorted to biting them off, after a few painful self-inflicted scratches. She looked to her left. It was a cloaked figure, whose features were totally obscured by the hood. “I can’t see you… Are you sure - “ she trailed off before asking if the stranger was real again. 

“I’m real,” she replied, pulling down her hood, with pale hands revealing a pale yet beautiful face. Too beautiful. Margaery actually leaned closer to the stranger, gawping at her Valyrian steel cut features. 

“So... Are you here to kill me?” Margaery had to look away to ask but was able to look back for the answer. Her spirit was weakened, not broken. Besides the thought that this was probably a feverish dream did come to her. You can’t be hurt by a dream. By a fever yes. But a fever wasn’t a spooky stranger in a black cloak. 

“No.”

“That didn’t sound so convincing.”

“I want you to live past this cell.” 

“Me too.” 

“Here take this.” 

“What is it?” Margaery asked as she took a vial with a clasp for a necklace chain. 

“Drink it if you are close to death. It will save you.” 

“It will… Right…”

“Take it. Drink it when you are about to die.”

“Hopefully when I’m 84,” Margaery mumbled, taking the vial and clamping it next to the golden rose she had been allowed to keep. The only thing. 

“Hmm,” the stranger made a dramatic effort to look around the dingy cell, “best of luck with that. If not though, drink that.” As Margaery clearly hesitated the woman grabbed her under the chin and made them lock eyes. Her grasp wasn’t at all painful but she knew not to try to move just from the look. “Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Good. I will see you after.”

“So… This does still feel, not real,” Margaery muttered as the stranger released her and moved away from the single sliver of moonlight. 

“No. I would imagine it wouldn’t. My name is Lily, that’s who I am. Goodnight Lady Tyrell.”

“Goodnight,” she mumbled into the darkness. Feeling stupid for doing so. 

She woke up crying out. Margaery dreamt that maybe memory nearly every night since her release. The small, black vial hung behind the pendant of her house. She had even taken a chisel to the back of her gold pendant to hide the vial better in an indent. 

None it made sense. So she tried not to think of the logic of the whole thing. 

Her neck was damp with sweat. Like every morning. 

At least this morning might bring her some relief. Cersei would face her trial. It was literally perfect justice. She would be punished for the crimes she had actually committed and lied that Margaery had. Yet despite all the misery of imprisonment and of questioning. The humiliation of bowing before those creepy fanatics. It did make her feel peaceful at all. 

The morning felt cooler than before. Making the sweat chill her. 

A chill that she could not shake all morning, as she was dressed in simple clothes that her mother had thought ‘tasteful,’ and matched the humble crown she wore. It only chilled her deeper as she made her way to the Tyrell retinue, then the Royal one and made her way with friendly faces towards the Grand Sept of Baelor. Surrounded once again by family and loyal friends she was still incredibly restless. The roof her mouth dry. 

The sparrows didn’t ease the Queen’s feelings but they, for once, didn’t add to it. As they all waited in the Sept. Her brother still in rags, she tried to give him a reassuring smile. It soon went as the sparrows held him still and cut his forehead with their symbol, despite her protestations. Held back and crying out Margaery was a prisoner once again and not the Queen. Right up until she was let go and Loras was mutilated. 

This was it.

The feeling she had dreamed over and over. The moment before she died. That was the chill.

“Where’s Cersei?” Margaery choked out but no one listened to her. 

Cersei Lannister was sitting out her own trial? No. She wasn’t going to do this without knowing something. 

_You’re going to die. ___

__She reached up for the pendant hanging around her neck, her fingers playing the vial hanging behind._ _

__“Where’s Cersei?” Someone else asked._ _

__“She’ll be here.” The High Sparrow was a magnanimous fool. How that buffoon had managed to take control of the realm so easily spoke terribly of the current nobility._ _

__The ground trembled._ _

__The vial was snapped away and was held between white knuckled fingers._ _

__“Loras,” Margaery rushed over to her brother in the commotion, “we have to get out of here.” He didn’t even look up at her._ _

__Alone. You’re alone and you’re going to die._ _

__The floor rumbled again._ _

__“Bloody hell!” She heard her father exclaim._ _

__Cersei was a monster. This was -_ _

__Gods. Margaery panicked and tore the stopper from her mysterious vial and drank it. It tasted amazing. Tasted so good that despite the sight of the lords and ladies of Westeros squawking panic at each other and the religious maniacs trying to reinstall order through rattling their chains. She had to savor it._ _

___Don’t die. ____ _

____No I don’t want to, she told herself determinedly._ _ _ _

____Pushing past the squabbling courtiers, Margaery got halfway up the stairs to the exit of the Grand Sept until a hand fell on her shoulder. A rough hand. She didn’t turn, she shoved backwards and the person flew from a strength she didn’t even notice she had exhibited she was so fixated on getting up the stairs._ _ _ _

____Margaery needed to get away, don’t die, she repeated to herself over and over and over once more on the short ascension which felt like a slow lifetime. The ground rumbled loudly that last time. Then it roared. Roared from all directions outside of the temple rushing towards them. Margaery didn’t know she was screaming her lungs out as she dashed the last couple steps and wrenched the doors open._ _ _ _

____Five steps._ _ _ _

____That was what she managed before the explosion came rushing behind her, whipping up through the open doorway flung her all the way down the stone steps and crashing into the third floor of a store front fifty yards away. A crumpled, broken, bleeding body fell then slumped down as the rest of the temple itself followed. Brick, masonry and even the giant bell went flying into the city. Destroying all in its wake. Twice King’s Landing had been rocked by the green flames of wildfire._ _ _ _

____Luckily it stopped at the Sept of Baelor, killing all those inside and most nearby._ _ _ _

____Margaery Tyrell’s body looked dead. She ought to be. Yet she still felt consciousness. Opening her eyes. It felt like a moment since she had been thrown from the temple. It was dark now. How long had it been? Cersei’s trial was meant to be after breakfast, before the sun reached the zenith. Now it looked past midnight._ _ _ _

____“Ow,” she mumbled. Reaching around behind her to push herself up. Where is the pain? She wondered as her hands came to rest on debris and she easily threw herself with a never before seen grace to her feet. “Ow?” Margaery patted her body. She felt fine. Her clothes had scorch marks and deep tears. Blood stains too where the holes were. Yet she was fine. Undamaged._ _ _ _

____Looking up she orientated herself._ _ _ _

____The staircase to the Grand Sept was to her left, she was by the row of houses on the opposing street. The stone bannister was smashed to bits in places and huge piles of stone debris made them impassable. There would be nothing left of her family anyway._ _ _ _

____Nothing left of anything._ _ _ _

____300 years wiped out. House Tyrell almost wiped out. The sparrows and the treacherous lords of the West. Cersei had good reason to skip her trial._ _ _ _

____There was nothing there. There should be. The Sept of Baelor should be there. Margaery stared, trying to process what had happened. It did make sense to her. Strangely calmingly so. Her parents were dead, brother too. It didn’t resonate._ _ _ _

____Grandmother! I need to get to her. She nodded determinedly to herself as if about to set off but instead she remained rooted to the spot, staring at the smouldering ruins. How could it be gone?_ _ _ _

____A shuffling then clinking noise made her snap her neck in the direction from where it came. Broken out of the moment all the sounds of the city at night came rushing over her. All of them. From loud snores to hushed conversation. Cats and dogs. Creaks and echoes. It hurt. Falling to one knee she covered her ears. It was like the world was bellowing at her._ _ _ _

____The original noise got louder. Ahead of the other sounds, if that made sense. She was able to focus on it. Margaery pushed up to a shaky base again. Men in red cloaks came round a corner on the street that joined with the plaza outside of the former sept. Still a couple hundred feet away._ _ _ _

____Every detail of their faces and armor. Margaery could see them. When she focused on them each. Before any of this could start to be processed one of the four men pointed at her with his spear in the distance she heard him point her out from all that way away._ _ _ _

____Time to go._ _ _ _

____Go._ _ _ _

____Her feet moved for her. Backwards. She ought to have tripped. Any other time she would have tripped but her feet moved for her. Taking her away from the sight of her attempted assassination._ _ _ _

____Rushing off with a grace and speed Margaery didn’t know she had. It must be the panic. Soldiers get this rush don’t they? Be able to fight a battle way past the body’s limits. Noise crashed into her from all sides. The docks? The sea? The crashing of the waves made her head spin. Coming to a halt, Margaery held onto a wall to catch her breath. She heard a person passing. A feeling inside told her to get his attention._ _ _ _

____“My lady?”_ _ _ _

____“Ah! Gods, oh it’s you,” Margaery looked to see the son of Randyll Tarly. Not the fat one she had liked, whatever happened to him. The tall, plainly handsome one._ _ _ _

____“You live?”_ _ _ _

____Margaery stared at him. He was scared of her._ _ _ _

____“It is you?” He frowned._ _ _ _

____“Yes. Lannisters are following me.”_ _ _ _

____“Come then,” he held out her hand for her to hold. He had a sword at least. She was with one guard. That was a bit of normality returning to this insanity. She couldn’t fend for herself. Margaery didn’t pay attention to the Tarly boy as she just followed him by his hand. It was everything around them that she found fascinating. The city was alive. Even in the dark with no one around. She saw every mouse and rat scurry away, and could see the stars in the sky clearer. Far more clear. “My lady!” Tarly hissed at her. Wrenching her eyes away she realized she had indeed stopped to stare at the now detailed dots of the night sky. “Come,” he hissed louder, grabbing her arm. He didn’t move her. Not a bit. Not even her forearm towards him. “My lady?!”_ _ _ _

____“Sorry, sorry, sorry Ser,” Margaery shook her head, trying to focus on the danger at hand. She followed him but despite all her efforts she kept looking up and around. Trying to hear sounds far off. That explosion had rattled her brain maybe. She didn’t really consider why everything looked the same, but was completely different; enhanced even._ _ _ _

____She wasn’t really aware where she was going, or being taken more accurately. Tarlys are loyal to a fault. She’d be fine with him._ _ _ _

____You didn’t die - a voice chimed from the back of her mind. Suppressing a giggle from the thought the Tarly boy stopped thinking something was wrong._ _ _ _

____“Nothing, keep going.”_ _ _ _

____“Are you sure, my lady? We can afford a moment. We’re almost by the barracks.”_ _ _ _

____“The?”_ _ _ _

____“Oh, where all the Tyrell bannerman are housed. My father was preparing to leave tomorrow, since the explosion he’s brought all persons loyal to your family down to an old barracks. There have been large Lannister patrols passing, they look hostile, but so far no word from the Red Keep.”_ _ _ _

____“It was Cersei.”_ _ _ _

____“Well.. We need to get you to Highgarden… I had a feeling that you might have survived or not you but a person, my father told me it was foolish to -”_ _ _ _

____“Let’s continue,” Margaery did not care. This wasn’t his story._ _ _ _

____“Yes my Lady.”_ _ _ _

____My Lady. Not ‘Your Grace.’ You’re not going to die no matter what - that same voice told her confidently._ _ _ _

____“Are you sure you are alright My Lady? You look pale…”_ _ _ _

____Margaery stopped again causing her escort to stop too, the look she gave him made him go a deep crimson before muttering an apology and carrying on. After her day she looked a bit pale? The boy was an idiot._ _ _ _

____“Here we are!”_ _ _ _

____“Dickon!” A familiarish Tyrell guardsman waved him over before going a bit pale himself when he saw who was with him._ _ _ _

____Dickon Tarly? Maybe she hadn’t ever known the name before, it was a good name for him, she decided._ _ _ _

____“Lady Tyrell?! Come inside, quick.”_ _ _ _

____She was safe again for the time being._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____[T-L]_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____He did not like dawn. He never had. Was always a dusk type of man. Mornings brought cold, bright, harsh light which reminded him of his impropriety from the night before and often the day. The hangover always felt twice as jarring in that bright dawn light. Dusk however had a warm light, a reflective, positive one. The buzz of the wine started to take hold but not doing damage yet._ _ _ _

____At least he didn’t have much of a hangover this particular unpleasant dawn morn._ _ _ _

____Tyrion walked slowly over to the commanding view the Hand of the Queen’s chambers possessed of Mereen. It was a city on the verge._ _ _ _

____A deep held breath was tangible rising from the docks and covering everything upwards to the top of the Pyramid._ _ _ _

____Nevermind._ _ _ _

____He had faced this before. The days before Stannis arrived at the walls of King’s Landing._ _ _ _

____This time he was on the attacking force. He was coming for that fucking city. Gods he hated it so much. And missed it even more. And he hated himself a bit for knowing that to be true. If only he had his sister’s self-certainty and lack of self awareness he probably wouldn’t drink so much._ _ _ _

____Varys was impatiently waiting by his chamber doors by the time he had pulled on clothes and drank some water - much to his chagrin but he ought not drink through the coming days._ _ _ _

____“Late as always my Lord Hand.”_ _ _ _

____“If I’m always late, when do you become the fool for presuming I’ll be on time?” Tyrion shot back, his voice rasping being the first thing said of this day._ _ _ _

____“Perhaps as a time of action is soon upon us I expected the Hand of the King to rise to the moment,” Varys said calmly but Tyrion knew the implied tone and therefore implied insult._ _ _ _

____“I had meant to be up early, but I slept poorly.”_ _ _ _

____“Yes I did too,” Varys sounded uncertain in a rare moment for him. “From what I hear most in the Pyramid did. Her Grace has been pacing her study for most of the early hours.”_ _ _ _

____“You would imagine,” Tyrion added, as only by spying on the Queen without consent would he know such things._ _ _ _

____“I would imagine.”_ _ _ _

____“We’re heading to war. It’s all or nothing, it makes sense that we dream dark dreams, dark days are inevitability on the horizon for all of us.”_ _ _ _

____“How poetic,” Varys snorted._ _ _ _

____“Fuck off…” They continued in silence for a moment. “What did you dream?”_ _ _ _

____“You first.”_ _ _ _

____“You’re getting predictable,” Tyrion chuckled hollowly. “Fine, I suppose it has been the same nightmare over and over, just getting more; substantial? Perhaps? Each time. Last night I was lost in the Red Keep, not lost, I knew my way, it was the Red Keep afterall, but I was unsure where I was heading, I just needed to head somewhere. It was odd. At first. Now I see figures in the castle. Long dark robes. Lingering in the distance. I normally don’t dream so vividly.”_ _ _ _

____“Normally you’re too drunk.”_ _ _ _

____“My mistake is cutting back then.”_ _ _ _

____“I doubt it, I’ve been having a similar sort of dream. Not of the Keep and lost directions, but vivid and the same figures appearing in the distance. Everyone I’ve spoken to shares that figure it would appear.”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t know what to think of it then,” Tyrion shivered. He didn’t like this. His younger beliefs in the death of the supernatural had been severely shaken, he didn’t want it to be shattered completely. “Let’s focus West.”_ _ _ _

____“Yes. West is very interesting. Your sister has been redecorating the capitol.”_ _ _ _

____“How so?” Why did Varys always have to be so fucking vague._ _ _ _

____“She used the cache of wildfire left by the Mad King to destroy the Grand Sept.”_ _ _ _

____Tyrion stopped walking. Varys paused patiently, his hands buried infuriatingly in his sleeves._ _ _ _

____“The Grand Sept of Baelor?” Tyrion processed this as quickly as he could at this time._ _ _ _

____“The very same. Inside were those religious cultists, your Uncle Kevan and many of his supporters from the Westerlands and the Tyrells.”_ _ _ _

____“All the Tyrells? Their banners too?” Tyrion had gone from thinking ‘how could this possibly happen,’ to ‘of course Cersei would do that,’ pretty fast._ _ _ _

____“No. Fortunately not many of their banners. Olenna was back at Highgarden.”_ _ _ _

____“I liked her.”_ _ _ _

____“Everyone does,” Varys waved his wrist dismissively. “Margaery Tyrell apparently made her way out the doors but was thrown by the blast crashing into a wall and falling four storeys, no body was recovered but it may have been one of those identified as commoners crushed by debris.”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, I doubt she lives. I also would like to know how you know? And don’t say little birds.”_ _ _ _

____“It would take too long.”_ _ _ _

____They walked to the council room in silence from there on out. The Queen was pacing by her map. Dark rings under her eyes. She had been sleeping very poorly it seemed. Varys was right. Though that wasn’t uncommon. Jorah was sitting patiently next to Greyworm. Daario no longer bothered coming since he was staying._ _ _ _

____“Late,” Daenerys tutted as Tyrion sat at his seat. “No time wasting, I’m sick of it, how long until we can leave?”_ _ _ _

____“A fortnight your Grace,” Tyrion replied. He was very confident of that. They were ready. Well two weeks away from ready, that was what he was confident of._ _ _ _

____“The Greyjoys want a meeting?”_ _ _ _

____“Yes they docked in the night,” Varys confirmed. Tyrion did not know this. He felt impotent as his skin crawled at the feeling. “I also feel we should send correspondence to Olenna Tyrell.”_ _ _ _

____“I agree,” Daenerys nodded as she stifled a yawn. “Right, we’re done. I’m too tired for this.”_ _ _ _

____Looking around the room it seemed everyone else agreed._ _ _ _


	2. 2

[R - _]

He could have sworn the guards of Pentos were glancing at him when he wasn’t looking. It might be paranoid but he was a wanted man after all. A wanted dead man was wanted if he was still alive. He was probably imagining it. 

It had been a long month he had spent there but he had basically fallen in love with the climate and food. It was the opposite where he grew up. Cold, harsh and bitter was replaced with warmth, comfort and tranquility. Now whipping snowy winds. 

It was probably him being paranoid. 

“Lord Stark.”

Oh no it wasn’t.

He spun on his heel to see no one. Huh. Going insane in exile was cliche. 

This wasn’t the first time he had heard ‘Lord Stark,’ in the wind. 

Robb continued back to his rented apartment. Siira would still be sleeping. He had enjoyed an early morning walk. The girl had a real charm to her, he’d never met someone like her. Yet Robb just kept telling himself it was because she looked like Talisa. Then he stopped thinking. Didn’t think about anything across the sea in the past. 

He reached for a handle of a sword that wasn’t there. Perhaps he should start carrying a knife. One of those thick, short ones scum used in city gang fights? He did need some protection. Even if no one knew who he was. 

Though it wasn’t like he could be killed anyway.

“Robb!” 

A very familiar voice rang out from the balcony of his apartment. He looked up at Siira with a bemused look. 

“Hi!” She waved. “Are you coming up or should I come down?” 

“Come down, I want to explore more. I can see that eye roll.”

They walked through Pentos by the walls. It gave him such a peculiar satisfaction to learn the streets of this place. He liked seeing so many different people, different clothes and weapons. Staring at weapons he had only seen in sketch form from some of the books in Winterfell’s library made him feel giddy like a little boy again. 

Long bladed spears, scimitars and bearded axe pole arms. It was all quite impressive. 

“So what did you do back in Westeros?” 

“I was a knight,” Robb lied absent-mindedly looking out at the market district of Pentos sprawling before them. “I want to visit the market.”

“Only if you buy me something.”

“I have already bought you.”

“Slavery is illegal here.”

“Sure, all of Illyrio Mopatis’ servants are there willingly,” Robb tutted. “I was joking by the way, of course I’ll get you something.”

“Knew it,” she sang. “I think I already know you inside and outside.” Robb snorted at the idea. “Not all your sketchy past, or what you did or why you’re in exile. I’m guessing the reason you’re more scarred than skin is fighting. But I don’t mean that. I mean who you are.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m that complicated,” Robb rubbed his chin like he used to when he had a beard. He couldn’t tug on his curls when he was anxious either, a very cropped hair style replaced the old. “I haven’t figured you out much.”

“I’m deep,” Siira agreed with a false seriousness. Robb snorted again, she made him laugh more than anyone had before… Though everyone talked to him like a lord or a King. Theon had made him laugh now and again but often he laughed so as not to seem uptight or because he ought to even if he didn’t understand the joke. “Have you heard of the news from Westeros?”

“No,” Robb replied, as he picked up a small vase hanging from a stall as they entered the market proper. 

“You’re from there,” Siira said flatly. He didn’t reply. “Soooo, I thought you might care. There was a giant fire in the capitol.”

“Right,” he put back the vase and continued deeper. Searching out weapons.

“Some important people died.”

“I… Is that news? It’s too vague,” Robb shook his head. “I don’t really care.” 

“If I knew what the Northern capitol was I’d ask quickly whether you would care then and find out your identity!” 

“But you don’t?” 

“But I don’t,” she confirmed happily. “Ohh that’s pointy,” she pointed to a stall top covered in exotic daggers. Though being here they weren’t exotic. Local, if anything. Normal. Typical. Either way Robb agreed that were indeed rather pointy. An excellent quality in a weapon. 

They shopped for most of the afternoon, Robb bought a long, broad dagger which he slung under the base of his spine. Easy to reach but not prominent enough to look like he was being threatening. Siira ended up with a necklace from White Harbor and several bracelets from The Arbor. Robb found it slightly amusing White Harbor was considered an exciting far away place here. 

It was shit. 

He took her to a tavern with outdoor seating and entertainment for dinner much to her delight. Walking arm in arm towards the docks and the tavern he smiled at her, listening happily to her ramble about her new trinkets. 

A fire in Westeros didn’t matter to him at all.

He felt content. He didn’t recognize the unfamiliar feeling but enjoyed it more than anything else before in his life. 

[M-T]

She was so hungry. So, so hungry.

It was strange for her to be so acutely aware of this considering she was being smuggled out of a city two days previously she thought would be the seat of a lifelong reign as Queen of Westeros. 

Now she was hungry and stashed in the back of a carriage with sacks of soon to be rotten flour.

The road was bumpy and she kept getting thrown up a little and dropped on her bottom. It should have hurt but it didn’t, not that she noticed. She was too wrapped up in her hunger. It wasn’t a hunger she knew. It was intense but the idea of eating the food given to her by Dickon Tarly gave her revulsion. 

They stopped. 

Why?

Oh, of course. For the fifth bloody time that day alone Dickon Tarly opened the back of the wagon.

“Are you doing alright back there, My Lady?” He asked. Again!

“Yes,” Margaery snapped. “We should just keep going. Without stopping.” She squirmed back as sunlight spilled into her hiding place. It was brighter than before. Almost a vivid shock of lightning. She could see the sunlight as if it had mass. 

“Very well, please do try to eat and drink water, My Lady, I know it isn’t my place but - “ 

The look she fixed him with was far scarier than she knew but he bowed his head, retreated and soon they were trundling slowly forward. All the grizzled, boring men that surrounded the Lord of Horn Hill had decided it would be best to send her to Oldtower. Lord Hightower was her late father’s best friend. So she was stuffed into the back of a grain cart and Dickon Tarly and a member of her father’s surviving household guard dressed as peasants and set off. 

It was clearly an assassination attempt against her. A successful one against everyone else in the Sept of Baelor. So with Lannister guardsmen everywhere and the Gold Cloaks known to be more loyal to Cersei than to their duty it was decided for her, like every other bloody thing in her life, to be smuggled away. It was a less dignified and less impressive version of Daenerys' escape. 

I hope she takes back the Kingdoms - Margaery thought spitefully. Huffing. 

Or actually not huffing. Nothing came out. 

Sitting back and trying to take a breath again she realized she couldn’t. 

_I’m not breathing_ \- Margaery didn’t panic. She just noted that. _When did I stop? _She could not remember breathing since waking by where she had been thrown by the wildfire. _Why don’t I mind?_ The sun hurt too. She crawled forward to the curtained material at the back of her wagon. Tugging them aside a hiss escaped from the back of her throat as she was blinded by the light. That wasn’t pleasant. Unable to endure another second Margaery scampered back. __

______That almost hurt. It was incredibly uncomfortable at the very least. She had thought her suffering had ended when she had been released by the Sparrows…_ _ _ _ _ _

______At least those bastards were dead._ _ _ _ _ _

_______I’m not breathing. I should be dead. ____ _ _ _ _ _

________Margaery sneaked forward again and tried to hold open the flap just enough to see through. Just some boring countryside. The Crownlands and its border with the Reach had the same looking landscape. Even that tiny peek made her feel ill from the sun’s rays._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Damn.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Crawling back she found her position against a sack of flour. Some Queen she was._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________After several more restless hours Margaery was able to lie back and sleep around noon. When the day was at its brightest. It felt like no time at all had passed when her eyes opened. Dusk was beginning to fall._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Gods, the hunger she felt was like nothing she had felt before. Focus. You have to focus._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Placing a calming hand on her heart she waited, confused for several beats, before she noticed. No heartbeat. No breath._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________I’m dead. NO! You’re not. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________They were halting again. She wasn’t as angry as she had been that morning from the stops. Even though the sun couldn’t get in the canopies, just the falling evening brought a bit of peace. Unlike her hunger. Or thirst. Whatever this feeling she knew but didn't recognize was._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“My Lady?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yes?” She could barely hide her fury._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I was just checking… Sorry, My Lady.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Don’t stop again. Please,” she added ‘please,’ very begrudgingly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“We will make camp later, hopefully have some warm food.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Keep going,” she snapped. “No stopping. At all.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Y-y-yes, My Lady,” a crestfallen Dickon Tarly left again. Gods what a tedious boy. She hoped he didn’t expect a marriage after this. She had fallen down the social hierarchy quite sharply over the last day or so. Tommen was still alive. Besides Oldtown was a harbor. Margaery had thought that the Lords of the Reach were planning to smuggle her off over the sea. So more discomfort and hiding seemed likely instead of weddings._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________So her family was all dead. She was an outlaw, not officially but it was a matter of time. Well maybe officially. Her current location didn’t get the latest news. She didn’t have a heartbeat nor breath. And to add to all of that she was in the back of a flour cart. Yet no panic, no sadness, no, no, nothing came. Just that hunger._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________For a third time she crawled to the back of the cart and pushed open the canopy, kicking her legs in front of her, Margaery sat crossed legged. Taking in her limited view. It looked like the same forest path they were passing through in the sun, hours before._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________She spent most of the night like that. Looking up at the sky seeing how many new stars she could see. Staring off into the dense treeline either side of the dirt path, catching the movement of badgers, owls and bats. Things she shouldn’t have been able to see. Listening to all the sounds from what seemed like a mile around it got easier to focus. Despite not being able to breath she could still smell. Her nose picked up scents without her breathing in._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________She thought of being called the Queen. It was so recent yet so, so far. Power was a strange concept. She only had it when people pretended she did. The world felt like a very different place tonight._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What the hells is happening,” she mumbled to herself, rubbing her face with her hands. They felt cool. Looking down she found her skin more pale than ever before. From shock? She was milky pale, like the moonlight from the waxing crescent above. Just like Lily._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Lily._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________As if shocked by lightning Margaery scampered back to her spot._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Lily mentioned death setting you free… The handful of words the mysterious woman spoke to her were scorched in her memory. In fact she had heard Lily’s voice sometimes, or at least imagined she did._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“One problem at a time,” she told herself, saying it a few times until she was reassured. At least get to the Reach before having an existential crisis._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________You’re like Lily now. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________That was probably true, Margaery thought, but was Lily like?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Not a Queen, that was for sure._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________[T_L]_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“FUCK OFF! Ah, fuck!” Tyrion shouted, shooting upright. Panting and slick with night terror sweat. Orange candle light flickered in the distance casting shadows all over his room. That did not help. Another night, another nightmare, the same as always. This time the cloaked figure who haunted him raised his arms in long cloaked tendrils._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________How could everyone be dreaming the same dream?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Some cheap curse by some loyalists left to the Masters? The Masters of Mereen were gone but had years of influence. Magicians existed… This was stupid. No, actually it wasn’t, it should be stupid he decided._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Perhaps a walk in the cold, night air would refresh him. Tyrion swung his legs off his bed. Yes. A cold walk would force him back to reality._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He was off with a jug of watered down wine. His promise to stop drinking, stopped after a full week of nightmares. He was scared to go to sleep sober. Exhaustion had gripped the pyramid and with it tension._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Even the Dragons seemed restless. Roaring late into the night and early in the morning._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Tyrion found a spot to overlook the city. There were far more lights on than there should be for this time of night._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Tyrion allowed himself to take in the majesty of the view for a moment before snapping back to worry at hand._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Can’t sleep either?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“No Your Grace!” He turned quickly recognizing the voice._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“No,” Daenerys Targaryen looked rough. The once vision of Queenly beauty was now gaunt and pale. She looked ill. “I think we should leave in the morning hence.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“That’s much earlier than we planned…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“More than one more night in this city and… I don’t know the effects… I don’t even want to discuss what is happening. We’re too tired.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________That was wise._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“So let’s leave, I need to leave. I need to. I need to sleep.” She said the final four words were far quieter than the rest. Tyrion just nodded in agreement, holding in a yawn. “Whatever magic this is… It won’t follow us to sea. Not West.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“No,” Tyrion just agreed. Would it end at sea? If so all he could do was agree. He needed to sleep. The Queen went to leave. “Wait My Lady. No… My… Your Grace,” stumbling to find the right address. “I forgot.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Hmm.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Was all he got. Tyrion rested his head onto top of his hands and leaned on the wall from which he was looking at Mereen._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“I hate you,” he told the city before yawning again. His eyes closed as he looked at the dancing shadows from the sea and litany of lamps. Tyrion slowly dragged his feet back inside the pyramid, looking up he made sure he was heading to the Tower of the Hand. He passed two Gold Cloaks who saluted him as he passed. He absent-mindedly acknowledged them with a half-hearted wave and mumble._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________The Red Keep was dark. He hoped Daenerys was able to find her way back to the top of the pyramid. It was a confusing route._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He carried on heading for the courtyard. Just as he came down the stairs taking him out of council rooms of the Red Keep he saw his brother._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Jaime!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________It felt like ages. He smiled to himself as Jaime turned to him, returning his smile and waving. Waving with a long, dark tendril instead of with his golden hand. The smile turned to a grin, the teeth fangs and his brother’s face became nothing but smoke and shadows._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Fuck…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Tyrion?” Daenerys nudged him hard._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“What the fuck,” Tyrion blinked his eyes open seeing the sights of Mereen once more. “I fell asleep?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Mid-conversation… I didn’t notice at first, then I left you but you seemed distressed.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Hmm, same as usual.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“We need to leave. The day after tomorrow. I can’t even think. Goodnight.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Goodnight.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________[?]_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“We’re moving too far away from the camp.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________The spearman from Kayce had to agree. He didn’t like being this far from the main army. The Riverlands as it turned into the road to the Vale was all wilderness. The forests had places which were pitch black no matter the time of day._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Calm yourself Jenrick,” the serjeant snapped over his shoulder. “Does the brotherhood scare you that much?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“No. This ain’t the brotherhood,” Jenrick snapped right back. Men tended to lose respect from rank when they were scared. All of them were terrified. 50 cowards, in bright red tunics. “The brotherhood doesn't do what this lot do.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Reports of missing foraging parties were gruesome. Bodies completely gored. Men said the Direwolves of the North had come South for revenge for the Red Wedding._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________The spearman agreed with this too. The customs were hospitality long and deeply respected by everyone from Dorne to the Wall. To break them? Like that? Of course it brought down the wrath of the Northern Gods upon them. It should be the fuckin’ Freys who were sent out to patrol. Those cunts would just walk half a mile from camp, get drunk then come back and say all clear._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Forward.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________They all obeyed. Weapons gripped as if the enemy were almost on them as they moved forward through the eerie forest. Apart from the animals they seemed alone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________The wind picked up and blew down the path._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________None of it helped their nerves. The soldiers were several miles from Jaime Lannister’s host. Riverrun was long out of sight. They had no landmarks or bearings. It was a fool’s errand. Looking for signs of these bandits in a forest would yield no results to them. Except maybe adding them to the butcher’s bill._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“What’s that?” The Serjeant’s confidence was gone from his voice. The man from Kayce jogged into formation. The thirty spearmen formed an arrowhead, with the twenty crossbows standing loosely behind. “Right, move forward.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“What did you see?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Movement”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________They all stood still not following the order to advance, the crossbowmen stayed behind the shields refusing to enter skirmish positions._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________A very distinct crack of a breaking stick made every man tense… Right until a deer and two fawns pushed their way through the hedgerows onto the worn, dirt path the Lannister patrol had been using. Stopped to look at the men, before bouncing off happy as you like. None of the men even tried a quarrel, they were so relieved._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“C’mon,” the confidence was back in the serjeant’s voice as they moved forward._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________The spearman from Kayce did feel a little more at ease now. Finding it far easier to dismiss the noises of the forest as natural, not suspicious. Still the unit was wary and each time an animal passed or a bird swooped overhead the men reacted as if under immediate attack. This too eased thankfully over the day._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________So when a very loud crack followed by rustling was heard near dusk right as they were ready to turn around and head home, it was dismissed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________The spearman from Kayce was so tired, his mind far from the task at hand now. A boring walk through the forest had drained him and he just wished to be back with family. Back in the shadow of Lannisport. So that’s where his head was._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Right up until the first screams._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________All of them turned to see the back three men dead and a fourth missing. They were cut wide open… Through shield and mailed leather armor._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“RUUUUN!” Jenrick screamed just as their Serjeant was about to call the order to form up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“HOLD!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Everyone stood frozen for half a second until a blood curdling scream came from far off in the dark forest._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Run won out over hold to the Lannister soldiers. So run they did._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________More screams and even worse noises followed them as they all fled. Their fears apparently became realized and true._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He just ran forward, down the neverending path with the exact same surroundings. The encroaching dark made the path ahead difficult to see. Men were still near him, he could feel them but refused to look anywhere but ahead._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Get back to Kayce._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Horrible cry after horrible cry called out and savage snarls chilled every man left to the bone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________They were somehow hitting a dead-end. How was that possible?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________The man from Kayce skidded to halt. No, no, no, no, this was not possible. Where had they gone wrong._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Through the forest,” Jenrick was still alive and as vocal as ever._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“No, no point,” the Serjeant appeared to have survived too. Both were tough men but this was beyond any soldier. The remaining men, fewer than ten, stood panting, moving closer together but never making eye contact, always staring out into the darkening night. “We need to stay tight, and move together. If we go through the forest and need to run we’ll break legs.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“That was a fuckin’ monster Serj! A fucking monster!” Jenrick cried out. Anguish causing his voice to crack. That man had stood down a Tully cavalry charge with just his spear staked out in front of him defiantly. He had tears forming in his eyes now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“I know,” the Serjeant agreed. “Did anyone see it?” No one had. “Fucking… Fuck! Right we need to move. If we stay together, us with spears, how many is that? One, two, duh-duh, six and two crossbows. Fine. Spears together at the front, Crossbows behind and I’ll bring up the rear. If under attack we form a circle and - “ He could just sense the men around him tense up. “What is it?” Ah… Shit.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Ahead of them, blocking the path, trapping them in the dead-end was a hulking figure. Twice the size of the Mountain-that-Rides. Maybe three times. It looked like a direwolf. A direwolf on hindlegs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Volley!” The Serjeant cried out. Both crossbows snapped as bolts shot over the shoulder of the Spearman from Kayce as piss ran down his inner thigh. The creature was struck twice. Unaffected it moved forward like a man, reaching up and pulling free the quarrels and tossing them aside._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“FUCKING RUN!” Jenrick called again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________They did._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________The man from Kayce dropped his spear and abandoned his shield. He ran as hard as he ever had before, his arms pumping and his lungs burning. Right up until he tripped just as predicted. He flew forward, hitting hard and tumbling down a bank and over a ledge. If it wasn’t for his armor he would have broken every bone in his body._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Disorientated he pushed himself up. Standing in the forest he took a moment. Trying to hear. He couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of blood in his ears. Discarding his helmet he breathed deep. Nothing? He could hear nothing… No one was running. No cries of pain. No beast._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Maybe he had survived…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Lannister.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Ahh,” he squeaked, making a high pitched noise he had never heard from himself before. Eyes closed he turned to face the noise. Fearing the worst._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Look.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________The voice was terrifying. Deep, guttural and not human. He opened his eyes to see that beast once more. It’s shaggy grey fur covered in the blood of his comrades. Golden eyes stared patiently at him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Are you letting me live? To tell the tale?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________The monster chuckled and nodded moving slowly forward._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“No. Just playing with my food.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He barely got the scream out before he was pounced on the top half removed from the bottom. Never to see Kayce again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	3. 3

[R-_]

“How many people have you killed?” 

“Do you actually want to know that?” Robb asked as Siira trailed a lazy finger over the diverts and scars over his chest, stomach, arms and shoulders. He didn’t know. It was more than fifty less than a hundred. 

“No, I guess not… What’s your name?”

“Robb.”

“No your actual name.”

“Robb.”

“Really? You didn’t come up with a fake name?” Siira laughed. “You’re so clearly in exile. Barely hiding it.”

“It is actually Robb. I figured my name is common enough, who cares right? It’s my last name that identifies me, but no one is looking for him. Good thing I’m not a Lannister with a name like Tyrion or Tytos or Tie...man,” he frowned, unable to think of a third example. 

“Robbbbb… bbbb…” She kept trailing ‘b’s,’ hinting for him to tell her what came after. 

“Is my first name, yes.”

“Grr, just tell me.”

“Why?” He asked, enjoying teasing her. If he was being honest with himself Robb was falling for this whore. A whore who was less of a whore and more an exclusive temporary partner by this point. He was not being honest with himself though. “Would you even know who rules the North or Winterfell?”

“The Starks.”

“Oh. How about that?”

“You’re Robb Stark! Didn’t you make yourself King?” 

“A little bit, yes,” Robb mumbled. He had really bet with certainty a whore from Volantis who worked in a brothel in Pentos wouldn’t know that, but thinking for a second he reasoned she was actually better travelled than he was. 

“Sorry you lost your war.”

“Thanks,” he laughed pretty genuinely at that. 

“Though if you hadn’t we wouldn’t have met!” she snickered. That was actually true and they both paused as Siira realized that what she said wasn’t that much of a joke and more a meaningful observation. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“No one would believe you. But thanks and how do you know that?”

“What do you upper classes think of us a lot?” She laughed again. “I know who the Queen of Westeros is. I know who rules in Lorath and Myr. Just the simple stuff you know. People like you are entertaining stories for people like us.”

“Am I a better story or fuck?” Robb chuckled at her words. She was telling the truth he had just never even considered it. He supposed he had thought kindly but patronizingly of those beneath him. Amazed whenever they did something of note and perhaps overly congratulatory. 

“Story to begin with but fuck now. I’ve taught you well.”

“Thank you Siira,” he said with fake sincerity. She giggled. “What?” 

“I like when you say my name,” Siira purred. Her hand running down past his stomach to the ties of his trousers. She grinned at him like a goof as her hand slid further down making him emit a small noise. “What?” She mimicked him. A definite growl rumbled inside his ribs as she grasped his cock through his loose trousers. “I need to know,” she began as her hand lightly moved around, barely touching him. “Why do you growl?”

“Wolf,” he shrugged.

“Wolf?”

“You don’t know what a wolf is?”

“No.”

“Really?” Robb sat up. That was fascinating. “It was the sigil.. Er, the animal of my House. Stark. Wolf. No? Huh. That is strangely interesting.” 

“Do you know what a scorpion is?”

“I haven’t seen one, but sort of yes.”

“Fuck.”

“Thought you’d got me there huh?” Robb laughed.

“Pfft, fine, have sex with yourself,” Siira rolled off and got off the bed. 

“Ohhh,” Robb whined, causing her to giggle again. He liked her laugh, Robb decided. 

“Puppy dog eyes won’t work on me, or… er… er… er… wolf cub eyes,” she tittered again, before bending over laughing at her own joke. Robb started laughing too as she went into full hysterics.

“That wasn’t funny!” He managed in between laughs. 

Siira had bent over and was resting her palms on her thighs as she laughed herself to tears. “Wolf,” she laughed after managing to stop for a couple breathes. 

“Uh-huh. Please don’t tell anyone about who I am and everything.”

“No problem, this is the best time of my life by such a long way, I’m happy I wouldn’t betray the man who brought me that,” Siira said as she looked for something to drink in the modest apartment Robb had. 

“Oh,” he was taken aback by that. They had spent close to a month together, everyday. He had just paid the brothel. They didn’t care at all. He hadn’t thought of what came after or even when or what after was. Best not to. 

“Besides who would care?” 

“Probably no one.”

“What happened to you again? I know you lost to Queen Cersei.”

“Sure.”

“How?” She asked.

“I made a lot of bad, selfish decisions, needed to make an ally so stupidly went with an obvious enemy and got murdered a bit,” he rattled off. 

“Oh. Thought it would be more exciting.”

“Trust me, boring is better. I’m not twenty-two and I have had enough excitement.” 

“Depends how you define excitement?” Siira asked, walking back to the bed. Robb hadn’t moved a muscle. 

“True.”

There was a sharp knock at the door. A letter was forcefully slid under. 

“I’ll get it!” Siira sang happily as Robb had leapt out of bed and was looking for a weapon. “Oh it’s no one,” she sounded disappointed. “Just this.”

“Thanks,” Robb took the letter and tore open the seal. Scanning it.

“What is it?”

“An invitation tof a feast at Illyrio Mopatis’ estate at the week’s end.”

“Addressed to Robb Stark?”

“Let’s stop saying Stark please,” Robb asked. “And no, just looks like one of many copies.” 

“That is so exciting! I can’t wait!” 

“We’re going?!” Robb was taken aback by her instant assumption.

“Yes, we are!” Siira sang at him, jumping at him and wrapping her legs around his back, kissing him over and over. “And I thought I had gotten you after the social status. Now! Me! At Illyrio Mopatis!”

“I bet it’ll be shit. Or I’ll be assassinated.” 

“No. I won’t let it. And they would have given you a personal letter if it was to lure you in. You’ve just spent a lot of cash around town recently. That’ll be all. Now. Let’s go shopping for my dress!” 

“I thought we were having sex?”

“We can do that later,” Siira waved him off as she bounded around, reminding him a little of a squirrel as she darted around picking up items of clothes. He grumbled but agreed and rolled out of bed. 

[T-L]

He hated the sea. Hated it so fucking much. Puking on the floor he was too queasy to make the side of the ship. 

Still the nightmares had stopped. 

“Still feeling poorly?” Varys had waited patiently as he had puked his guts out. At least when he had drank too much alcohol he was drunk and numb when he was vomiting. This was brutal. “I don’t love the sea either.”

“I fucking hate it,” he retched again, nothing but bile stinging his throat. He spat it out. “Cunt.” Thick viscous saliva stuck to his lips and the wind blew it back onto him. He disentangled himself from his own gross fluids with a weary pace. He throat ached raw and his head throbbed as the fucking ship insisted on rocking side to side without any pause. 

“Hmm, so how did you sleep last night.”

“I did. Until the storm hit.” 

“I was so tired I managed to get straight back to sleep. The sea will settle soon.”

They both stopped to watch the dragons fly overhead. 

“I want a raven sent back to Mereen in a couple days to see whether the dreams abated,” Tyrion started the conversation again as the dragons settled into a calm soaring speed ahead of the armada. 

“So far they have,” Varys replied. 

“You can be very creepy sometimes.”

“I know. It’s necessary for someone to be,” Varys replied, taking one of his hands from his robe to gesture that they should start moving. “The Queen wants to see us.”

“I imagine its to do with all the things we just flat out didn’t bother to do due to exhaustion?” Tyrion asked with a false, sarcastic positivity. 

“You imagine correctly.”

He followed Varys back inside the quarters of the flagship. She was a monster of the ship. Some five hundred men were on board and without all the royal and lordly quarters and meeting and dining rooms it could fit five hundred more. He did feel better back inside. He probably ought to learn the boating terms. It would kill some time. Voyages were tedium. Invading army or not. 

“Welcome my Lords,” the Queen was seated with Missandei next to her and Grey Worm sitting close, staring at the translator. No Jorah. “Better rested?” The both agreed as they took their seats. “Good. Very good. A proper night’s sleep was all we needed. To think.”

“Now that we can think what is our situation?” Missandei asked. She was getting bolder. Good for her. 

“From what I've gathered from the reports brought from across our navy we will need to stop for food. The men were too tired to lift anymore on before we left,” Varys began. “We were supposed to meet the Greyjoys, their ships will be invaluable, however this will need to be arranged on the sea, which will be tricky, but doable. Next we will need a port to buy… Well many things are on the list so far. Our captains assure me that they wouldn’t want to engage Euron Greyjoy’s fleet before finishing the preparations. The good news, House Tyrell wants to make an allegiance as does House Martell. Coordinating it again, tricky, but more than doable.” The spider concluded.

How could something be ‘more than doable,’ that made no sense. Tyrion slightly rolled his eyes but was also quickly processing the information. 

“So what port would encompass all our needs?” He asked. “We don’t need to stop several times, anchoring a fleet this size would be a colossal effort.”

“Braavos or Pentos would be adequate,” Missandei said. 

“We can decide that on the way,” the Queen decided. “It isn’t too bad.” She nodded. Tyrion hadn’t expected that. He had expected her usual temper, needing to calm her down then a compromise with some reason in it. “I was expecting far worse, and we have overcome far worse. How much food do we have?” She snapped into action.

“Enough to get across the sea but Dragonstone has none.”

“I see, that’s fine, that’s fine, we will stop at Pentos, it’s not too far from Sunspear, we will send a raven ahead to get them to send envoys.”

“The Dornish and Tyrell army won’t be much of a match for the professional Lannister army, however it does present a very united front after a time of such constant division,” Tyrion added. It did need saying but he felt he needed to say something. 

“What about the dreams we all had?” The Queen waved this off as uninteresting. “The same thing…”

“Magic!” Greyworm barked.

“Obviously magic,” Varys agreed. Tyrion remembered the story of that sorcerer who tortured a young Varys. A chill ran down his back. “Powerful magic. That I didn’t think existed.”

“Tell me Lord Varys are you an expert in magic?” Daenerys asked with her usual scorn. 

“I’ve had my brushes with it Your Grace, but no, I would suggest finding one.”

“Finding a magic expert? Should we scour the docks of the Arbor for fire breathers too?” Tyrion scoffed. 

“Illyrio Mopatis will know someone.”

“Ah yes, I wouldn’t mind seeing that man once more,” the Queen’s scornful tone changed to menace. “Pentos it is.”

They don’t have slaves so Tyrion reasoned at least they wouldn’t be delayed with another elongated period of chain breaking struggles. 

[A-S]

Arya skipped every alternative step as she made her way up her now regularly trodden route. She was very happy. The mountains of the Vale soon revealed themselves past the treeline of the thick forest. She knew the place well. It was her territory. She had marked it. Yes, the way you think she did. 

Passing over the river she was soon in her hidden cave. Only she could find it. It was deep and she had ripped the rock out of the wall to expand it deeper and higher. She had made a bed frame and filled it with sacks she stuffed with linens and covered in stolen furs. Admittedly her bed frame didn’t have any legs. So it just framed her giant fur mattress bed thing but she was proud of it. It was her’s. She had a crate and a half of candles but only kept a few lit. Her night vision was terrific now. 

Two tables she’d dragged in and a couple chairs were also placed in a set order. Not that were guests but making it more cluttered added to the feeling of comfort. Just like all the books and trinkets she’d scattered about. They’d never be used but she really wanted a home feeling. The Lannister swords and armor were just trophies. 

She tossed her sack of fresh items out on the floor to see her booty. Another Lannister Helmet. She took the iconic piece from each patrol she annihilated. It would be added to the pile in the corner that was always framed by some of the candles. 

“Oh shit,” Arya chuckled to herself as she noticed the top half of the head was still inside. Standing she walked outside, pushing the thick tent sheets she’d stitched greenery to use as a door aside, she upturned the helmet and scooped out the bloody contents tossing it over hand far off into the woods. 

She returned and put everything away into its new home. Finally adding the coins she’d taken to the cauldron she used as a bank. It was half full. 

After a quick trip to the stream to wash away the blood, Arya slept the rest of the morning away as had become her routine. She woke mid-afternoon. It was her new schedule. Morning to bed, after lunch awake. The night was for hunting. 

She was close to the Bloody Gates of the Vale. Being able to move so fast and cover more ground than any race horse had its advantages. No Lannister scum would dare come this far. Not that it would matter if they did. It would end for them the same as it ended for every other Lannister she had encountered.

It was all practice for when the situation presented itself to kill someone off her list. 

She walked up to the settlement built closest to the Vale’s mountain gate. Just off the High Road. The formerly dangerous High Road. The mountain clans were scared of the demonic creature that now stalked the forests of the High Road but no innocent person had been hurt. The common folk said it was a protector from the Old Gods. Others believed it was a band of Stark loyalists who survived the Red Wedding. Either way those who had fled the Riverlands and those of Vale who hadn’t liked to tread too far from the Bloody Gate had increased the settlements size ten fold. They needed a name. 

Arya was so proud of herself. This was all because of her. Well a lot of it.

She did need human food sometimes too though, so that required going to the shops. She needed basic supplies for her fire and furnishings. Clothes were constantly getting utterly destroyed or lost… somehow. 

It was amazing how walking with such confidence made others treat you as if you were important or dangerous. 

“Good afternoon!” She greeted the innkeeper as she marched to his counter.

“Good afternoon Jeyne, same as usual?” He smiled down at her. He was what an innkeeper ought to be in Arya’s mind. Fat, jolly, friendly and married to a fat, serious wife. 

“Yes please, Tom.” This Fat Tom was far better than her old one. 

“Coming right up young lady.”

“Thank you.” Arya started pulling out a handful of looted coins and picked out a little too much for her supplies. Tom soon returned with a smallish cask of ale and a sack bag which would contain cheese, breads, vegetables and cheeses. The sort of things you couldn’t forage. Well you could forage fruit and vegetables but it was tricky with monstrous wolf claws. She also needed human contact, not that the big bad wolf would admit that. Just a few words and an occasional smile was enough to stop her going completely insane. 

“Take care,” he actually waved despite their proximity. It was all very endearing. As she left the tavern her eye was immediately drawn to the commotion by the road. The villagers were gathering. Might as well see.

Hitching the bag over her shoulder and holding the cask under the other arm she made her way to the ever growing group. Even soldiers from the Gate were coming down. 

Putting her supplies down by a tree she climbed up to gain a vantage of the road. Whatever was happening was drawing a lot of interest. 

She was patient. Far more than she used to be and just spent the time staring off into space planning her next hunting trip over in the Riverlands. The Lannisters would be smarter just not patrolling the surrounding forests and just staying behind well illuminated palisades but thankfully for her they weren’t smarter. Jaime was in command now and clearly he was just as stupid as ever, Robb had humiliated him in the Riverlands and now Arya would take her turn. 

After half an hour perhaps a handful of riders approached. Knights. She could see far further than anyone else. Four Arryn Knights and one ragged looking old man in leathers. The scaled armor of the Tullys. Huh. 

“It’s him!”

“The Blackfish is back!” 

Arya froze. Bryden Tully. Her Uncle. Great-Uncle? He was a relative, a fairly close one, and a diehard ally to her brother. She had moved close enough to the sieged castle of Riverrun to proudly see the Stark sigil defiantly flying next to the Tully. She couldn’t introduce herself. He wouldn’t believe her. She was so long considered dead and had never met the man. Besides, did she want to? And why was he here? And not defending his home? 

It didn’t matter to her. She was only Arya Stark to her. To everyone else she was a capable orphaned girl called Jeyne. Her father was a Northern knight, she came with him etc. etc. A whole backstory had been worked out but she hadn’t ever been given the chance to tell it to anyone. 

Had the Blackfish abandoned his post? 

Fuck him. Another traitor. Arya jumped off the tree suddenly in a rage. Everyone from Sansa to her own fucking mother to Theon Greyjoy had abandoned Robb. This was total war. No loyal Stark bannerman would rest until every Lion was dead. In the most painful way she could deliver her justice. 

Arya almost yelled “The North Remembers!” at him. 

As she shouldered her supplies and left in the opposite mood to the mood she came. 

Even in her normal form. Her human form? She had incredibly heightened senses so when some very stupid person followed her to the edge of town Arya felt every inch of their movement behind her. 

This was not the time to confront her. 

There rarely, if ever, was. 

Her plan was to lead this fool just out of town then scare Seven Hells out of them. 

“Hey ‘scuse me!” 

Oh. She turned to see a girl a couple years older than, maybe Sansa’s age. She had pretty eyes. Also dressed like a boy would. In leather armor with chainmail cuffs on her shoulders and braces on her wrists. A shortsword hung low from her hips. Her hair was short length and the color of coal. Like Gendry’s hair. 

“Yes?” Arya was confused, she sounded like the teenager girl she only sort of was.

“Hello,” she beamed and waved. 

“Hello?”

“I thought I would say hello, I’ve seen you around a quite few times, so… Hello. I’m Mya. Mya Stone,” Mya introduced herself, pushing out her hand for a shake. Arya did. 

“Jeyne.”

“So… Where do you live?” Mya offered to pick up the cask but was waved off. 

“Why do you care?”

“Trying to be friends?”

“Why?” 

“Because… I need friends… Like everyone does and we’re close in age. Both kicked out of our home… Admittedly I haven’t come that far,” Mya glanced over her shoulder at the looming mountains that ringed the Vale. “So where are you from Jeyne?” 

“North.”

“Yeah you look… You look a bit like Lady Catelyn actually.”

“No I don’t,” she snapped. She didn’t look like her late mother. Robb and Sansa did. 

“You her long lost daughter or something? I’m kidding! Relax,” Mya smiled at her. It was hard to hate someone being friendly after having no real human contact for so long. Since the night she parted ways with Night’s Watch. “So… Live in the forest?” 

“I don’t think I should say,” Arya wanted to keep talking, she kept glancing sideways and the taller girl always caught her looking and smiled. Her eyes were very nice. 

“Fine, fine, fine, I understand, in the interest of being friendly I’ll tell you about myself. If you want?” 

“Sure,” Arya shrugged.

“I’m Mya. Stone. Bastard of the Vale, my father is Robert Baratheon…”

“Your father is… Nevermind, that seems likely actually,” Arya processed this. The fact she had personally met two of King Robert’s bastards was pretty dull. The hair did match too. He had so many it was as typical as seeing a person with red hair. 

“Met one before huh?” 

“Yes.” 

“A recognized one?”

“No. Congrats.”

“Thanks,” Mya snorted with a short laugh. She can laugh at herself at least… Arya had found the more common born the person she met the better she liked them to be honest. “I worked at the Gate taking people up to the Eyrie with me mules. Then Lady Lysa thought I was making eyes at Littlefinger so kicked me out in a rage. Wanted to kill me,” Mya laughed again. “Luckily the knights who knew me dissuaded her. Lord Royce was outraged on my behalf which is flattering I suppose.”

“I suppose.”

“Not going to share?” 

“No,” Arya replied rather solemnly. She did want to but she couldn’t. Not to a stranger. 

“Well hey, look, let’s do something, even if it's just going for a walk or having a drink, I drink ale too,” Mya nodded towards the cask. “Couple days?” 

“Why not.”

“Great. Meet you here then.”

“Afternoon. Mid, say,” Arya needed sleep before. Though she was agreeing. Just out of instinct. It probably wasn’t smart but she got a good feeling off the girl. And fuck was she fucking lonely. 

“Perfect, can’t wait Jeyne,” Mya winked one of her steel blue eyes. They were unique. Arya would give her that. 

“Farewell.”

Farewell? That was something Old Nan would say Arya! 

She had thought herself more of a ghost than that. Mya said she had seen her many times. Oh well. It mattered not. These were peaceful people and she was the most dangerous thing in a hundred miles if not more. It had been a couple… A few… It had been months. Whether she would admit it or not she would need someone to talk to.

She also needed to kill some Lannisters.

After a boring wait until the next day, Arya set out from her hidden camp into a clearing nearby that was covered with thick foliage. 

As had become a habit she pulled off her clothes until a naked Stark stood in the clearing. She bared her teeth and craned her neck up and back so she was staring at what little of the dusk sky seeped through the gaps in the canopy. A low hiss which grew into a growl came from her throat as her head was rolled side to side; loud cracks noted each full tilt left then right. Her open mouth was torn open at the sides, ripping down as the tip of snarling, giant snout pushed through the flesh. It pushed the skin at first, then tore.

Arya screamed with laughter at the beautiful pain as she fell to her knees and her hair, old eyes and teeth scattered uselessly either side of her engorging form. Her knuckles broke and the ends of her fingers split as her other form came from within. Piles of messy flesh ran off her body as she stood. Many times the height and size. Covered in fur and with claws like speartips.   
Tilting her head back once more she howled at the sky before setting off to the Riverlands to hunt.


End file.
